Charge! A Story of Briton and BoerFenn, George Manville
General
Charge! A Story of Briton and Boer
Fenn, George Manville
South African War, 1899-1902 -- Fiction
The orchard was planted long before the tent was given up--all trees
that father had ordered to be sent to us from a famous nursery in
Hertfordshire. How well I remember it all!--the arrival of the four big
bundles wrapped in matting, and tied behind a great Cape wagon drawn by
twenty oxen, whose foreloper was a big, shiny black fellow, who wore a
tremendous straw hat, and seemed to think that was all he needed in the
way of clothes, as it was big enough to keep off the sun (of which there
was a great deal) and the rain (of which there was little). In fact, he
wore scarcely anything else--only part of a very old pair of canvas
trousers, which he made comfortable and according to his taste by
cutting down at the top, so as to get rid of the waist, and tearing
close in the fork till the legs were about three inches long.
I remember it all so well: seeing the foreloper come striding along by
the foremost pair of oxen, holding one of them by its horn, and carrying
a long, thin pole like a very big fishing-rod over his shoulder, for use
instead of a whip to guide the oxen. Yes, I recollect it as if it were
only yesterday. I looked at him, and he looked at me. My eyes were
fixed upon those trousers; and I burst out, boy-like, into the heartiest
fit of laughter I ever had. As I laughed his eyes opened wider and
wider, and the corners of his mouth began to creep back farther and
farther till they nearly disappeared. Then, suddenly, his mouth flew
open, showing a wonderfully white set of teeth, and he gave vent to
"Yer-her! Yawk, yawk, yawk, yawk! Yor-hor!" Then he helped to outspan
the oxen, and I showed him and the man with the wagon where to find
water. At every order I gave he opened his mouth and laughed at me; but
he eagerly did all I bade, and followed me back to the wagon to help in
unloading the bundles of trees, taking the greatest interest in
everything, and lifting the boxes and packages of stores which had come
with the trees, no matter what their weight, as if he enjoyed putting
forth his tremendous strength.
"Well, Val," said my father as he took out his big knife to cut the
string, and then carefully unlaced it--for string was precious out in
the desert--"I thought I'd chance a few; but it's quite a spec, and I'm
afraid they'll be all dried up. However, we'll try them; and now they
are here we must get them in at once. Mind, I shall look to you to make
them grow if they are still alive."
"How am I to make them grow, father?" I said.
"With water, my boy. You must bring down buckets from the spring till
we have time to dig a channel; and then they'll shift for themselves. I
hope they'll grow, for it will be pleasant for you and Bob to sit under
them sometimes and eat apples and pears such as your father used to have
in his old orchard at home."
"Yes, father," I said; "and for you too."
"Perhaps, my boy; perhaps," he said, with a sigh. "We shall see.--Here,
Jenny!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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